PARIS: USD’s Johnny Dee

It’s a tricky layout, this golf course hugging the University of San Diego campus. It has a fair number of par 5s, some knee-buckling par 4s, and don’t go to sleep on the beguiling par 3s.

“I can shoot well on it,” USD’s Johnny Dee said. “It’s the real courses where it is kind of a struggle.”

But the Toreros’ standout basketball guard can always snag a tee time here, and in golf-mad San Diego, that’s a plus. It doesn’t hurt that Dee lives where he plays, as this par-35, nine-hole miniature golf track is inside the USD dorm he shares with teammates Christopher Anderson and Nick Kerr.

“There is very little room for error,” Dee said. “You can bounce shots off the walls and couches, but you can get in some spots that are very tough. There are a lot of one-drop penalties.”

For the shoot-to-you-drop Dee, that’s fine. When owning a gunslinger’s calmness and confidence that any stellar outside shooter possesses, Dee seldom gets rattled.

He didn’t as a freshman last year in leading the Toreros by averaging nearly 14 points a game. He doesn’t as a sophomore when bringing back his pitching wedge to circumvent a lamp and the television.

Dee proved his dead-eye stint at Rancho Buena Vista High, where he collected 32 points a game, was no fluke after being USD’s steadiest player. Despite those questioning his length, strength and shot transferring to Division I, Dee buried those doubts as if they were just another 3-point attempt.

“I think he surprised a lot of people around the league and exceeded my expectations of what he could do,’’ USD coach Bill Grier said. “I didn’t know he could come in here and start and have the kind of year he had for us. How consistent he was, that was pretty impressive.’’

With Dee’s family tree, it’s clear the fruit didn’t roll far from the athletic branches.

Dee’s father, Donnie, played in the NFL; his mother, Jackie, was a cross-country runner at Tulsa. His grandfather, Don, has a gold medal from the 1968 Olympic Games, as a member of the US basketball team.

But even Don Dee, who lives in the Kansas City-area, was taken aback by his grandson’s splashy freshman year.

“He surprised me,” Don said by telephone. “But I knew he could shoot. He’s been shooting since he was a teeny, weeny little kid. You give him a little room, and he will nail it.”

After hammering non-conference teams, word leaked about Dee. When the Toreros entered West Coast Conference play, Dee was no longer stealth.

“Once we got into league, from what the other teams saw on film, he became the focal point of defenses,” Grier said. “And for him to handle it in such a mature fashion was impressive.”

Dee, who set a USD freshman scoring mark, was opening eyes, and that included his. Confidence is one thing; affirmation is another.

“It’s tough because your don’t know what to expect,” Dee said. “You play high school and AAU and this is completely different. You go from playing boys to playing men and there are some athletic people out there, some really, really big players.”

Sizing-up Dee, his height was an issue. At 6-feet, could Dee launch his shot over 6-3 defenders aching to send his offering into the front row?

It was a question recruiters beating a path to Dee’s door regularly asked.

“That is what I heard from most coaches, ‘Can you get your shot off?’ ” Dee said. “All I know is that USD believed in me and that’s why I’m here.”

Measuring height is easy. But deciphering what’s between the ears? Not so much.

“I always believed in myself and I think that is the key right there,” said Dee, who had more than 22 points in eight games last year. “It is so mental that if you’re not expecting to make the shot, you’re not going to be a very good shooter.

“You really got to believe you are going to make the shot, even when a guy is in your face. It’s that mental tenacity of, ‘I’m going to make that shot, no matter who is guarding me.’ ”

Grier checks himself. Otherwise his smile grows too wide speculating what Dee, and his electrifying backcourt mate, Anderson, will bring the next three seasons to the Jenny Craig Pavilion.

The skinny on Dee, who was found in an otherwise empty gym on Tuesday, is he’s willing to shoot and shoot and shoot.

“He’s dedicated,” grandpa Dee said. “You got to work, and no one is going to outwork him.”

On, or off, that cozy Mission Valley golf course few are familiar with.